


6:15

by TheIntelligentHufflepuff



Series: A Timetable of Love [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Asexual Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Italian Food, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, not too detailed though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIntelligentHufflepuff/pseuds/TheIntelligentHufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Six fifteen exactly. He must be eager."</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Steve and Bucky's first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6:15

**Author's Note:**

> a) I'm asexual myself (although hetero-romantic) so I may just kinda be projecting on to Bucky, but oh well.  
> b) although this is technically a sequel, it can work as a stand alone so if you don't feel like reading the first part that's ok.  
> c) if you see any glaring errors please tell me, this isn't beta'd.

“Stop jiggling your leg.” Natasha told him, glancing up from her phone in annoyance. She’d turned up at his front door half an hour ago, declared her intentions to inspect his (quote, unquote) latest beau, then promptly set up camp on his second hand sofa. 

Bucky stilled his movements for all of two seconds before starting up again. 

Nat sighed deeply. With slow, exaggerated movements she set her phone aside and fixed Bucky with a look.   
“You. Will. Be. Fine.” 

“Really, though? Really?” 

Natasha rolled her eyes, flipping her sleek hair over one shoulder with an unaffected grace that Bucky envied. 

“I just-” he began, only to be cut off by the doorbell. 

Bucky could physically feel his eyes widening as he looked to Natasha in horror.  
“What time is it?” he whispered. 

“Six fifteen exactly.” she replied, smirking like the cat that got the cream “He must be eager.” 

Bucky clenched the sides of his armchair, rapidly working himself in to full blown panic attack. Natasha’s face fell in that subtle way of hers, the corners of her lips pulling down in increments as she processed Bucky’s stiff posture. 

“I can tell him you’re ill.” she offered reluctantly. 

Bucky pursed his lips; the doorbell rang again. This time there was something hesitant about the sound, synthesised chimes dissipating in to the atmosphere before they could be fully born. 

It was now or never.

Bucky propelled himself out of the chair and to the door, yanking it open in a way that he hoped came across as enthusiastic rather than angry. He looked up, made eye contact with Steve, froze, and slammed the door shut. 

Steve looked good. Really good, dressed in dark jeans and a pale blue polo shirt exactly the right shade to makes his eyes look- impossibly- even more like a Disney prince’s. But that wasn’t why Bucky was hiding. Oh no. Bucky was hiding because Steve had brought him flowers- an elegant bouquet of lush red geraniums spotted with silken white pansies. 

“What?” Natasha mouthed. 

Wincing, Bucky turned around and reopened the door. Calmly.   
Steve was still standing there.   
’Thank God.’ Bucky thought.   
Aloud he said “Hi, Steve.” 

“Hey.” Steve greeted him, smile wavering just a little at the edges “Um...” his hand clenched and unclenched around the flowers’ stems “I figured, you know, I’d bring flowers? But I guess if that offends you or something, although you shouldn’t be offended by the concept of something feminine...uh. I’ll stop.” 

Bucky found himself smiling with perhaps too much fondness for the first date.   
“No, you’re right.” he assured Steve “It is stupid to be offended over something like flowers. My sister would kick my ass if I was. And I’m also really flattered. Yeah.”   
Steve’s answering smile was a thousand times more genuine than its predecessor. 

Natasha coughed pointedly. Bucky jumped, not having noticed her appear at his elbow. Grudgingly, he stepped to the side to allow her in to the conversation.   
“Hi, you must be Steve. I’m Natasha Romanov.”   
Bucky noticed with some dismay that her eyes were darting up and down, appraising Steve like an antique. 

Steve nodded politely, eyes narrowed in apparent thought.   
“Do you know Clint Barton?” he asked. 

Bucky blinked; Natasha, too, seemed surprised. Whether by Steve’s somewhat abrupt manner- which Bucky had got used to by now, and didn’t find all that unusual in the first place considering his own way of navigating human interaction- or by the question itself, Bucky wasn’t sure. 

“Yes, I do know him.” she replied, tilting her head to the side “He’s my partner.” 

“I thought so, you look like your picture.”

Natasha broke out her steely glare “I what?” 

Steve flushed, hurrying to explain “Not in a weird way! I bump in to Clint sometimes on my way home from work if I’m passing the sports centre at the right time. We sign to each other a bit, and he showed me a picture of you once.” 

Realisation dawned on Natasha’s face “Oh, you’re that guy! He thinks you’re called Roger.” 

Bucky snorted. As Steve made a face at him, laughter dancing in his eyes, Bucky felt an invisible tension melt from his shoulders. Tonight was going to be a good one, he could feel it. 

****  
The night air was crisp and relatively fresh, blowing wisps of hair around Bucky’s face and ruffling the tassels of his scarf. It was a hand knitted reproduction of the fourth Doctor’s, which Steve had teased him for. Bucky retaliated by pointing out that Steve’s own scarf was patterned with Vincent van Gogh’s ‘Almond Blossoms’ and made of synthetic silk, a completely inappropriate material for the wintry weather. Eventually, their slow meandering took them to a little Italian restaurant that Steve insisted he try. 

“The wine list is good,” Steve informed him as he held the door and Bucky tried not to swoon “the food is great, and there’s a booth at the back that’s perfect for putting the mind at ease.” 

Bucky nodded absently, heart conflicted. Although he was touched that Steve took his issues in to consideration when choosing a location for their date, he was saddened to think that Steve might have picked the place with his own problems in mind too. 

A friendly waitress lead them to their table, laid down two leather bound menus, then skipped off to give them a moment to choose. Bucky slid across the seat until his side was flush with Steve’s, back to the wall. Steve startled minutely, but relaxed in to the contact. In comfortable silence, the two perused the menu. Promptly, the waitress returned to note down their orders: a pinot grigio and tomato based pasta for Bucky, a cabernet sauvignon and elaborate pizza for Steve. 

“That’s such an artist wine to drink with pizza.” Bucky teased him when they were alone again, revelling in his ability to poke Steve in the ribs without getting strange looks from commuters. 

“I’m not an artist, though!” Steve protested “I’m an art historian.” 

Bucky looked at him incredulously.  
“Liar. I’ve seen you sketching.” 

Steve shrugged “I draw but that doesn’t make me an artist, I’m nowhere near good enough for that.” 

“Steve, I bet you’re amazing!” Bucky chastised, delighted to see a small smile in reward “Besides, that’s like saying I’m not a nerd even though I’m subscribed to four different scientific journals.” 

“But you are a nerd! I mean, one for your job, but four?” 

“Exactly.” Bucky said triumphantly “And nobody told you to draw but you still do it regularly. Do you paint?” 

Steve shrugged, the movement jostling Bucky slightly. He didn’t mind.   
“Not as much as I’d like to.” 

Bucky smiled, patting Steve’s arm.   
“See? Artist.” 

Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly “We’ll have to agree to disagree. But I guess, if you want, I’ll show you some of my sketches sometime? If you show me some of your nerd stuff.” 

“Hell yes!” Bucky agreed, heart missing a beat up at the thought of ‘sometime’. 

****   
“So,” Steve asked when their food had arrived “what’s the story with you and Natasha? From the way Clint tells it she’s some kind of secret agent with no friends and guns in every room, but she seems pretty normal.” 

Bucky snorted, setting down his fork. He nodded.   
“That totally sounds like Clint. He’s completely gone on Nat, but he’s also a bit of a mess of a human being, so...” Bucky shrugged, then ate another bite of pasta. Beautiful, gorgeous tasting pasta.  
“But me and Nat have been friends for years now, ever since I moved to New York. Nat works for the government but she won’t tell us exactly what she does, so I guess it’s something top secret.” 

“That or she works in HR and doesn’t want to say.” 

“Or that.” Bucky conceded, amused at the thought of Natasha sitting behind a desk filing employee reports “Anyway, how’d you meet your best friend?” 

A private smile spread across Steve’s face. He sipped at his wine, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Well,” Steve began, dropping his pitch to a purring baritone “It was a crisp spring day in DC, sometime in the late 1980s. Our eyes met across a crowded playground. I was on the floor, having an asthma attack. He was on the swings , pretending to be a bird. I said ‘ahhhh’. He said ‘oh no’ and ran off to get the teacher.” 

A strange noise caught between a laugh and a coo erupted from Bucky’s mouth, startling the group of students adjacent to them. Bucky tried to drink some wine, but pictured the scene again and full-on laughed, alcohol slipping down the wrong way. Steve slapped Bucky’s back sympathetically as he spluttered in to a napkin. 

“I hate you.” Bucky was finally able to rasp, ears burning from the stares he was receiving. 

“Oh, you’re meant to have romantic dinners with your enemies now? Nobody told me.” Steve responded, a hand covering his heart in fake surprise. 

Bucky threw the saliva covered napkin at Steve’s face “Ha ha.” 

“Sam laughs at my jokes.” Steve pouted, grinning when Bucky stuck his tongue out at him. Then Steve sobered up, placing a warm hand on the point between Bucky’s shoulder blades. Warmth spread across Bucky’s back, his eyelids fluttered shut. It felt like he had wings. 

“Are you okay, though?” 

“Huh?” Bucky mumbled, reluctantly dragging his eyes open “What? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Steve nodded solidly, patting Bucky on the back once and withdrawing his hand. Bucky tried not to droop. 

*****  
“Future ambitions?” Bucky said, plate now sadly empty of food “That’s what people are meant to talk about on dates, right?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t been on a date for a while, then?” 

Bucky shrugged. Truthfully, he’d been wary of dating ever since he truly stepped in to adulthood. It just felt like too much to handle when everything in life seemed out to get him and his job demanded so much attention. Plus, there was the other issue. The airy joy of the evening drained out of Bucky at the thought, leaving him to slump in its absence. 

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked, not giving Bucky time to respond before drawing his own conclusions “There’s nothing wrong with not dating a lot. I haven’t much myself, either.” 

Bucky straightened up, interest piqued “Really? It’s not like people won’t want to date you...” 

Steve picked up his napkin and started fiddling with it, gaze focussed intently on the movement of his fingers. It took a moment, but soon Steve looked up from under his lashes and admitted “I don’t deal so well with relationships. I have friends and everything, but...romantically, I always seem to mess it up. Often it doesn’t seem worth the bother, and after my, um, fiancée Peggy died...” 

“Oh, Steve...”  
Bucky twisted in his seat to fold Steve’s hands up in his own, narrowly avoiding a tomato coated sleeve.  
“When?” 

Steve shrugged shakily, eyes glistening with moisture in the low light of the restaurant “About a year and a half ago.” 

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hands tighter, ducking his head to meet his eyes. There were very few things Bucky wanted to do less than say his next sentence, but pressuring Steve in to doing something he didn’t want to was one of them.   
“Steve, if you’re not ready for this-” 

“No!” Steve cut him off, drawing back in surprise “I think...I mean, I want to have this with you. It won’t be Peggy, but it wouldn’t be even if she was alive. It’ll be something new, something amazing, I think.” his eyes widened, apprehension seeping in to his expression “If you want it too?” 

“Yes.” 

Steve sighed in relief, shoulders settling in to a more relaxed posture. Absently, Bucky rubbed his thumb in minute circles across the back of Steve’s hand; contemplative silence fell between them. For a moment they were a rock in the stream of babble, the whole world condensed in to Bucky, Steve and their entwined hands. 

Then, Bucky just had to go and open his mouth. 

“When I said I was gay, I wasn’t entirely telling the truth.” 

“Oh?” Steve responded, some of his previous openness receding in to wary confusion. 

Bucky shook his head, filled with a roiling dread and the feeling that he was signing his own execution “I’m in to men, but only romantically. I’m asexual.” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. He blinked, mouth working through half words that Bucky couldn’t catch. Hesitantly, he began to withdraw his hands, chest tightening. 

Abruptly, his movements stopped. Steve had his hands firmly clamped in place. 

“What type, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Bucky felt his own eyebrows make a run for it. People didn’t normally respond by asking for details, because people normally had no idea what asexuality was. 

“Um, sex-repulsed to indifferent. Usually the first. How do you know there are types? Are you ace?” 

Steve pursed his lips, then made a ‘whatever’ face and replied “I’m not, Sam is. He doesn’t keep it a secret, but don’t... you know...” 

Bucky was dimly aware that he was shaking his head, reassuring Steve that he wouldn’t out Sam without his permission. Inside, he was caught up in hurricane of relief, hope and disbelief. 

“Answer me honestly, Steve- are you really willing to never have sex for the rest of,” Bucky caught himself “this relationship?” 

“Are you okay with cuddling?” 

Bucky nodded. He was very, very okay with cuddling. 

“Then yes.” Steve assured him, leaning across the table to peck him on the cheek “I am most definitely willing to not have sex.” 

“Good. That’s great.” Bucky squeaked, embarrassingly emotional. 

Steve smiled kindly at him, knocking their feet together underneath the table. 

“You know, I think this is the most revealing first date I’ve ever had. Usually you just end up talking about your favourite colour. You want dessert?” 

Bucky nodded, tipping his head to smile giddily in to Steve’s shoulder. 

“You’re amazing.” 

Steve dropped a kiss in to Bucky’s hair “You’re even better.”

“Fight me.” Bucky demanded. 

The effect was somewhat ruined by the way he kissed Steve after.


End file.
